Work Text:
Nero is reading just behind her, a meandering adagio. The words ripple out from his chest, soft and low, and somehow livelier than his usual tone of voice. Perhaps it's easier for him to decide on inflection when the words are already laid out in front of him? It doesn't matter, though. His voice is perfectly calming, melodic or flat—as is his arm around her, soft and protective, or his shirt hanging off her shoulders, absolutely drowning her in it.
Rossa, meanwhile, is halfway to the world of dreams, the beginnings of an image already bleeding into her mind like splotches of watercolor. Nero's voice paints a picture of a place far away, a cross between the Guard and some shelter on another planet—somewhere both familiar and strange—yet his solid presence around her keeps her feeling safe no matter where her sleepy mind decides to run. A particular immersion break startles her eyes back open with the realization that she’s falling asleep, but all she can see from the crook of his neck is diffused light, turning black hair golden-brown.
So be it, she thinks. She doesn't need to see. It’s enough just to feel: the warmth of his body, the purr of his voice, a soft rise-and-fall in sync with his breaths.
Under the covers, Rossa shifts, nuzzling her partner for a dash of extra heat. They are as close as they can be. If it were possible, she’d get even closer—melt right into him, zip herself up inside his skin. The lull of sleep finally claims her as she pictures the scene, crawling into his ribcage and falling asleep to the rhythm of his pulse.
(In a way, she’s already there.)